


like we’re all looking for meaning in something

by craftingdead



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, rated teen for naughty oh no language!, there needs to be more f/f in the aphmau fandom ngl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-26 12:56:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19006243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/craftingdead/pseuds/craftingdead
Summary: when her power finally springs back into action, adrenaline rushing through her veins like a drug





	like we’re all looking for meaning in something

**Author's Note:**

> ended up deciding i actually did want this on ao3 because it was sexy and long

She curls her hands into fists and slams them against the wood, feeling blood run from cracked and bloodied knuckles every time she punches, a feral scream choking out of her lungs.

It feels like release, this training – pushing herself harder than she did before. Trying to harness the powers buried deep inside her, waiting and rotting over centuries before being brought to life with the curve of her palm and a sweep of her hand. Hyria told her,  _do not go overboard, do not hurt yourself, there are some things that are dangerous, that cannot be controlled,_  but Aphmau ignores her as power wells up like a spring inside of her.

The release is good, when her power finally springs back into action, adrenaline rushing through her veins like a drug.

Earlier, she had practiced until her lungs heaved and her head felt faint. Killing miles of field, some potions that Lucinda lent her, folding her fingers over the glass bottles and making her promise not to do anything risky with them.

“I won’t,” she said, smiling warmly at her friend, and she had kept that promise – just not the one to Hyria.

She drove her hands up against the wind and felt flowers spring back to life underneath her call; felt blooms spring up and grass revive itself, spreading towards the sky at her beck and call. It felt like control, her finally getting a handle on her life, on her decisions, not letting any man or goddess decide what she can and can not do with her powers and body.

“You hear that Irene?” she screams, feeling like she’s a whole new being, the goddess residing in her just a parasite she needs to  _rip. Out._

“You hear that Irene?” she sobs as she slams her fist against the wood, cool night air kissing the wounds on her palms and the cuts on her legs. 

Aphmau lets herself slip to her knees, feeling cold and dew-covered grass brush against her thighs; a deep storm had brought her operations to a full, earlier, and she remembers how she cackled, screaming full and real against the thunder, being able to vent raw and ready without the risk of anyone hearing her.

She would monologue about her life, about the man who fucked her open and then left her to drain, devoid of feelings. How she wished she felt love for him, instead of pity, instead of anguish, instead of annoyance, instead of anger, hot and boiling, rising underneath her skin like magma. But her tongue sticks a little too hard on purple prose and she’s never been one to keep a diary, anyways.

“Fuck you,” she whispers, feeling less like a saint than a victim of the sin. “Fuck the both of you running.”

_IreneAaronIreneAaronIreneAaronIreneAaronIrene –_

“Aphmau?”

Her head actually jolts up, like she’s being pulled from a dream, as Katelyn calls, “Aphmau, where are you?”

“Over here,” she responds, desperate, ignoring that her title was “The Fire Fist” and that Aphmau’s been gone for three hours longer than she herself planned and five more than she said she would be.

Katelyn pops into view, her blue hair bobbing behind her like a waterfall. She’s cross, pale skin flushed, still in her newly polished armor instead of the clothes she switched too to stroll around Phoenix Drop. She even has her claws on her, glistening sharp. 

She scans the field, eyes furrowed in confusion and dismay, before her gaze lands on Aphmau. “Where the fuck have you been?” she calls out, eyes narrowing and fists clenching before something stops her short.

Maybe it’s the way the field looks, all scattered with dead grass and vines swinging from trees and flowers that hadn’t bloomed there for over a hundred years all forming some kind of kaleidoscopic painting across the land. Maybe it’s the way that dew clings to the trees that didn’t exist before today. Maybe it’s the way Aphmau is kneeling on the ground, panting for breath.

She shakes her head, slow, and says, “You can’t keep doing this to yourself, baby. Just look in the state you’re in.”

Aphmau sobs, wet grass against bruised knuckles as Katelyn picks her way across the field to her, dodging trees erupting from the earth and craters from her earlier failed attempts at healing.

Katelyn crouches down next to her, eyes worried, chewing on her bottom lip, and Aphmau lets herself fall into her arms, ragged. Worn thin. 

“People are worried about you,” she murmurs, rubbing lazy circles into her back with her thumb as Aphmau shakes. 

She pushes herself up into Katelyn’s lap and kisses her. “You aren’t gonna make me not mad by doing this,” Katelyn murmurs against her lips so Aphmau kisses her again. “Okay, maybe you are.”


End file.
